


Night Time Airwaves

by drakarifire



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Fluff, Homophobic Language, I Don't Even Know, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Not Beta Read, Sharing a Bed, They're soft and cute, that's it really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27478693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakarifire/pseuds/drakarifire
Summary: They're just not the same after the sewers, but maybe that's okay so long as they have each other.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	Night Time Airwaves

They’re not really the same after the sewers. He guesses that’s to be expected considering what they’ve been through...he wouldn’t say they’ve grown up exactly, but there is a certain lack of something that didn’t come back up with them. 

Bill doesn’t really talk much after Beverly leaves. She promises to stay in touch but it’s not the same hearing her voice tinny and far away through a telephone. 

Richie kind of gets it, why Bill and Ben act like the sun’s gone down. He thinks the clubhouse feels a little dimmer without Bev’s smile lighting it up and he wasn’t like _in love_ with her or anything like that. So he can only guess it feels worse for them. 

Mike is cool, but he was new to the group and he didn’t really get to know them that much before they lost whatever it was they had. He settles easily into the grooves of the way things are now and smiles in a way that does its best to make up for everything they’re missing. 

As far as he’s concerned Richie does his best to pretend like nothing’s happened. It’s not easy- even with Bowers and his goons gone, Derry is still fucking Derry. Henry Bowers might be classified as a child murdering psychopath as far as everyone and their mother is concerned, but the shit he’d done and the words he’d said to fuck with Richie’s existence in particular are permanently etched into the air. 

Richie Tozier. _Faggot._

He hasn’t stepped foot in the Captiol since that incident, and he’s almost too scared to walk down Main Street alone or worse...with Eddie or Stan, or fuck- even Bill. Like somehow just being two boys hanging out is actually a giant neon sign blinking bright above his head. _Come take a look at the town fairy!_

So...okay, maybe he’s not doing as great at the pretend everything’s okay bullshit as he thinks he is. 

He’s trying. Really he is. He presses all of Eddie’s buttons and teases Stan until he rolls his eyes and huffs out a real Uris brand zinger. The kind of sharp humor that K.O’s anything Richie could come up with in a million years. 

He makes Eddie laugh and feels almost proud of himself when someone in the group beeps him, like it’s an accomplishment now and not just...a stop signal. He still stops, but there’s this sense of relief that comes with it like “Oh, I can still do that. Cool.” I can still laugh, I can still make someone else laugh. 

I’m still Trashmouth. 

I’m still here. 

He’s not sure when he starts sneaking into Eddie’s bedroom. He used to do it once or twice, and never really at night. Usually it was to sneak Eddie his homework or come hang out even when Sonia went full prison warden. He’d drop off snacks and comic books that Eddie wasn’t allowed to have, and pretend like it didn’t mean anything when Eddie smiles at him like he’d made his entire year or something. It wasn’t a thing. Not till after. 

His palm still stings from the cut the first time he climbs out of his bedroom window with nothing but the moon to guide him. He doesn’t know what he’s planning or where he’s going, except that he’s exhausted but the threat of nightmares has him too keyed up to sleep. It’s always the same one too: Paul Bunyan with his gnashing teeth. He knows the clown is gone but his mind doesn’t seem to get the message. Which means he hasn’t really slept since they came up out of the sewer a few days ago. 

It’s by chance that he finds himself at Eddie’s. Or at least he tells himself that. Eddie who’s light is on even though it’s midnight and his mom had him lights out at 9. 

He knows even without going in there that Eddie is the same as him. So he makes a choice and…well, two weeks later and he’s still sneaking over every night. _It helps_. It helps a lot to sleep with someone next to him. To feel Eddie warm and alive beside him- breathing softly and curled against his chest. He feels more like himself and he can tell that it’s working for Eddie too. They’re not exactly themselves, they likely never will be again, but they’re working with what they have and it’s turning out to be enough. 

Richie kind of wishes they’d found out this solution sooner because then maybe they’d have been out of their own heads enough to notice that Stan was doing the worst out of all of them. Sure on the surface he was fine enough. He was as Stan as ever. Quick to quip but quiet and in his own head when he didn’t see a reason to be talking. 

Richie can’t fault Bill for not noticing given he’s grieving his brother now, like he probably should have been this whole time, and he’s missing Bev. Ben and Mike never really got to know Stan the way he was before so it makes sense that they wouldn’t really get it. 

Which left him and Eddie to pick up the slack and...well they fucked up and dropped the ball. 

“We gotta do something about Stan.” 

“You noticed too, huh?” 

“Yeah.” Richie kicks a leg and scuffs the tip of his shoe against the dirt floor beneath them, making the hammock rock softly back and forth. “He’s always got his face in that dumb book of his.” 

Stan with his bird book isn’t exactly a rare thing, nor is it really a cause for concern on its own. Stan always has his nose buried in it at some point throughout the day. It’s when he spends the whole day just...staring at it, not even really turning any pages, that's when you realize maybe there's something to be worried about after all. 

“Do you think it’s the…” Eddie’s hand lifts, drawing a circular motion around his face, his features twisting into a grimace. The bandages had come off a bit ago but they’d all seen the thin circle of scars around Stan’s face and they’d done their best not to stare. 

“Probably. That or he hasn’t been sleeping just like us. Or fuck, it’s probably both.” 

Eddie sighs at that, his head falling back to stare at the ceiling. “It’s real bad isn’t it?” 

The question makes Richie uncomfortable. He squirms because he doesn’t want to answer, especially since they both know that yes...it is bad. Out of all of them Stan came out of that sewer losing the biggest chunk of himself, and the fact that they hadn’t noticed for so long made Richie feel like the shitiest friend on the planet. 

“I think so.” He says finally, clearing his throat and kicking at the ground again to make them sway. His eyes lingering on Eddie’s ankle where his hand is resting, stroking gently back and forth against the skin. He’s almost surprised Eddie hasn’t said something about it or tried to kick him in the face yet. He’d hear Henry’s jeers and the Clown’s sing-song voice in the back of his mind if it wasn’t for the fact that he spent almost every night with Eddie sleeping across his chest. The warning not to touch other boys seems far away and unimportant given all they’ve been through and the warm safety of the clubhouse. 

“He won’t tell us if we ask, will he?” Eddie stretches, it’s almost imperceptible but it shifts Richie’s hand to Eddie’s calf and his brain just about blacks out for a second. 

It’s only years of carefully constructed defense mechanisms that allow him to catch any of what’s said to him. He blinks, bug-eyed behind his glasses, the hand not on Eddie’s skin lifting to adjust his frames. “Nope.” He pops the “p” and risks a glance towards the entrance to their hideout. As though Stan is going to come hopping down any second to catch them discussing him. “You know our dear old Staniel, he’d much rather shut down and bird watch then say anything.” 

Not entirely true. Richie could get him to talk, he always could. It just took time and effort and a whole lot of finesse most people didn’t expect a Trashmouth to have. 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Eddie worked at his bottom lip for a moment, rolling it between his teeth as his brows furrowed so hard they almost looked like one solid unibrow. 

_Cute, cute, cute._

Not really the time for those kinds of thoughts but Eddie always had a way of distracting him and it had only gotten worse now that it felt like they were on their own most of the time. Which...brought him back to the problem at hand. Stan. What were they going to do about Stan? 

His attention was once again drawn to Eddie’s leg, momentarily captivated by the sight of his thumb swiping back and forth. Stan was just as important to him as Eddie was. He’d do anything for either of them but it was so much easier knowing how to make Eddie feel better. Not to say he couldn’t figure Stan out, he could, it’s just Eddie didn’t fight him on it as much as Stan did. 

Pressing Eddie’s buttons was like using his favorite combo in Street Fighter. He knew what he was doing, it took no effort, and he usually won at the end. With Stan? It was like trying to work out an especially hard math problem at school. Richie could do it, he was good at math, but it took a lot of work and a lot of trial and error and sometimes in the end the answer isn’t positive. 

“Hey dumbass! Did you hear me?!” Eddie’s voice came with the added punctuation of a socked foot to the face, knocking his glasses askew and making Richie jump. 

“What the fuck Eds?!” 

“Don’t call me that.” Then, without a beat or a breath in between. “Were you listening or do you need a hearing aide now too?” 

“Fuck off. I _was_ listening-“ 

“Oh yeah, genius?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyebrow lifting. “Then what’d I fucking say?” 

“Uh….” Shit. Think fast. “How jealous you are of what your mom and I have?” _Nailed it_. 

Eddie made to kick him again but this time Richie was ready and caught his foot by the ankle. “Alright! Alright. I wasn’t listening. You happy? What’s your big idea?” 

Eddie doesn’t wrench his foot away but he does keep glaring and muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “asshole.” Which only serves to make a grin crack across Richie’s face as he lets his hand ( and Eddie’s foot ) drop onto his chest. 

“I was saying…” 

—— 

And that’s how he ended up here- well, not _here_ here exactly, he’d have been in this specific spot tonight regardless. Thumbs hooked into his backpack straps and head tilted up towards Eddie’s window. The only difference between tonight and every other night was that instead of climbing up there, he’s watching Eddie climb down. Like him, Eddie has a backpack thrown over his shoulders, unlike him he takes the ivy covered trellis beside his window like someone would handle a bomb. Carefully choosing each hand and foothold, testing each makeshift rung before he trusted it with his full weight. 

It was kind of adorable. 

“Are those your mom’s gloves?” Richie snorted as Eddie finally reached the ground and turned towards him. A pair of flowery, oversized gardening gloves practically duct taped to his wrists. 

“Splinters and thorns are dangerous Richie.” Eddie hissed back, slicing at the air with one hand. “Do you know how easy it is for them to get infected? Just because I somehow didn’t catch some flesh eating bacteria in the fucking sewers doesn’t mean I’m going to just- just risk this shit.” 

“That’s fucking adorable. Does mommy know you stole her gloves.” 

“Oh fuck off.” Eddie growled, flipping Richie off as he yanked his bike out of the bushes he’d hidden them in. “You’ve seen my mom asshole does she look like she fucking gardens?” 

“Touche.” 

They are decidedly not as quiet as they should be, but good ole’ Mrs. K likes to pop a handful of sleep aides before bed so Richie’s convinced he could throw a rock right through her window and she wouldn’t even twitch. In fact all of Derry is kind of dead right now. The curfew had been lifted after Bowers was put through the speediest trial in Derry history, but everyone still seemed to be living like it was in effect. Streets cleared out before the sun was completely down, and houses turned dark not long after that. 

It was kind of creepy if Richie bothered thinking about it for too long, so he tried not to. Focusing instead on the way Eddie tilted his chin up as they rode their bikes, looking free and at peace with the wind whipping his hair around his face. 

Sometimes Richie forgot how much Eddie had changed since they’d come out of the sewers. It’s not like it was a subtle change, or like it wasn’t as big or as up front as it had been for the other Losers. Eddie was very clearly different, but it was different from how the rest of them had changed. Like they’d all...lost something down there and Eddie gained something instead. 

He talked back to his mom a lot more and his fanny pack didn’t rattle with all the pill bottles he carried around. Now he just stuffed it full of band-aids and gauze and anything else he might need to fix them when they got hurt. He carried himself differently too, less scared and anxious, even if he was still spouting out facts about possible diseases and death threats. He didn’t let his mom gel his hair or straighten it every morning and when he climbed on his bike he let himself go as fast as he wanted. 

Richie loved all versions of Eddie, but this one was by far his favorite. 

He even took the turn to Stan’s house sharper than he used to, trying to stifle a laugh as he does. It makes him look windblown and alive when they coast to a stop at the side of Stan’s house. 

God Richie wants to kiss him. 

“His light’s still on.” Eddie whispers while Richie is still trying to reboot his brain. His gaze finally tearing itself away from Eddie’s flushed cheeks ( barely visible in the light from the sidewalk anyway ) and turns his eyes up towards the window to Stan’s bedroom. Unlike the rest of the house, or even the rest of the street for that matter, Stan’s light is on and blinding. 

It’s an unsettlingly familiar sight that throws him back to when he first found himself standing under Eddie’s window. 

“We figured it would be.” Richie reminded him, moving to stash his bike in some bushes. Eddie did the same and then they stood and cast uncertain glances at each other. 

They’d considered telling Stan beforehand that they were coming. It would have been easy enough. A quick phone call or even getting him alone for a second while they’d all been hanging out at the quarry earlier. The prospect of getting told an outright no had been their deciding factor in the end, though it didn’t make them feel any less uneasy about it. 

“Now or never.” Richie muttered, giving Eddie a pat on the shoulder, before he was moving to the tree he’d used to climb into Stan’s room a few times before. 

“Wait!” Eddie grabbed his hand making him freeze where he stood. “Shouldn’t we like...I don’t know...throw a pebble or something?” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yeah- Look dipshit you almost gave me a heart attack when your face popped up in my window okay? I don’t want to like...freak him out, okay?” 

Richie groaned, making a big show of rolling his eyes, though he could see the logic behind the idea. “Fine, but I’m making the throw. You throw like your mom.” 

“Fuck off! No I don’t.” He dropped Richie’s hand ( depressing ) in favor of punching him in the arm ( weirdly exhilarating. ) “We both know you got picked fucking last in baseball and it wasn’t because your eyes suck.” 

“Is there a reason you two jackasses are arguing under my window?” 

“Holy shit!” 

“Staniel!” 

Above them, looking extremely unamused, was Stan with his arms folded on the windowsill. Curls haloed in the light shining out from his bedroom window. “Seriously guys what the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Richie beamed, trying his best to at least act like he didn’t want to wake up the entire neighborhood. He grabbed Eddie’s wrist, lifting it up, “Eds here wanted to try his hand at gardening.” 

That earned him a sharp kick to the shin and a hissed “Fuck you,” which was once more...very worth the trouble. Eddie wrenching his hand away before he was swatting at the back of Richie’s head almost hard enough to knock his glasses off. 

Focusing his attention back on Stan, Eddie let his fists rest on his hips. “We’re here to spend the night.” 

“You’re joking.” Stan was glaring down at the both of them, hands lifting to start pulling his window closed again. “Go home!” 

“Nope. We’re coming up there.” Eddie swatted at Richie again and he took the hint. Arranging his bag on his shoulders as he started climbing his way up the tree. “And if you don’t let us in I’ll tell Richie to do that yowling cat impression he’s been working on.” 

“I hate both of you.” 

“No ya don’t.” 

Stan’s gaze drifted over both of them, teeth chewing on his cheek. After a moment he conceded and his shoulders sagged, eyes rolling up. “Fine, but please be quiet for once in your goddamn lives.” 

“Absolutely no promises.” Eddie whisper-called up from the ground below, already starting to climb the tree in Richie’s wake. 

Stan helped Richie tumble into his bedroom, hissing for him to shut-up when their combined weight and momentum sent them sprawling to the floor. Then they got to their feet and together helped pull Eddie into the room. 

Once all three of them were standing there Stan looked them both over. “Okay. Now why are you really here?” 

Richie and Eddie turned their gazes on each other, seemingly considering their options, before shrugging in unison. “Like we said. Sleepover.” 

Stan groaned, hand lifting to pinch at his nose. “I get that, but why. Why me? Why now?” 

Eddie’s mouth opened like he was going to say something, then snapped shut, shooting Richie a nervous glance. Richie, for his part, shuffled uncomfortably between their combined scrutiny. 

“Uh...well, you see…” 

“Wenoticedyou’vebeeninareallyshittymoodandwewantedtohelp.” The words came out of Eddie so fast they blurred into one compressed sound and both Stan and Richie were just left staring at Eddie who was looking up at both of them with wide eyes. “Uh…” 

“What?” 

“What I think Eds was trying to say...before someone pressed fast forward-” Richie muttered, turning his attention back to Stan and sucking in a deep breath. His hands instantly lifted to fiddle with the frames of his glasses. “We noticed you’ve seemed kind of...down lately. So we um, thought maybe a sleepover would help?” He flinched, “down” didn’t exactly feel like the right word but he didn’t want to risk Stan shutting them out even more. 

“Yeah! We’ve been having sleepovers almost every night. It's...it’s really helped.” Eddie’s voice started sure but tapered off to something small and quiet, his hands ringing nervously in front of him, looking almost comically big in his floral patterned gardening gloves. 

“Your moms just let you do that?” Stan asked, glancing between them. 

“Uh well... _technically_ …” 

“They don’t know you’re here do they?” 

“Well duh Staniel, do you really think prison warden Sonia is gonna let her precious little Eddie-bear out in the middle of the night?” Richie manages to pinch Eddie’s cheek before Eddie gets a chance to dodge him completely and it makes the smaller boy actually snarl. 

“At least my mom’s passed out what the fuck is your excuse, dickwad?” Eddie snapped, swatting Richie’s hand away. 

“Oh don’t you worry your cute little head Spaghetti, the Mags and I have an arrangement-” 

“How much do you owe your sister this time?” Stan interrupted, stopping Richie short in his tracks and making his bravado deflate like a sad balloon. 

“All her chores and any money I make mowing lawns in the summer.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. 

“Holy shit Rich.” Eddie said, eyes widening slightly. 

“What? I’ve been sneaking out every night it’s like...a necessary evil or whatever.” He shrugged, looking suddenly uncomfortable with both his best friends staring at him like that. “I know my parents can kind of ditz out sometimes but leaving your kid at the supermarket once isn’t exactly the same as letting him sneak out every night, you know?” He scuffed his shoe against the wood floor of Stan’s bedroom, glancing back up in Eddie’s direction. “No way they’d support my late night rendezvous with the lovely Mrs. K.” 

“Oh for the love of-” 

“Okay well, you might be okay sneaking around behind your parent’s backs but _I’m_ not. Both of you have to leave, I’m still on thin ice with my dad and if he finds out I had people over-” 

“He’s not going to find out.” Richie said at the same time that Eddie adamantly shook his head and interrupted with, “We’re not leaving.” Both of them crossed their arms and widened their stance as though they expected Stan to try and physically move them. 

Stan’s hands had begun to curl in at his sides, nails digging sharply into his palms. “I’m not kidding guys. _Leave_.” 

“No.” Eddie’s voice was sharp, hands moving undo the tape holding his mother’s gardening gloves on. “I crawled out of my window and up a tree to be here, I’m not going fucking anywhere.” 

“I didn’t ask you to do that!” Stan hissed, trying to keep his voice low, gaze flicking towards his closed bedroom door. 

“That’s the fucking problem Stanley.” Richie ground back and despite the edge to his voice he let his arms drop into a stance that was more open and less hostile. “You think you need to ask for this shit and you don’t. We’re your friends. We’re here because we know what you’re going through and we want to help-” 

“Bullshit.” 

“What?” 

“I _said_. Bullshit. You’ve got no idea what I’ve been going through. None of you do. So please. Leave before I say something I can’t take back.” 

There was an edge in Stan’s voice that made them doubt their decision for the first time since they’d made it. Their eyes met briefly, uncertainty evident in both their expressions. Eddie’s lips turning down in a frown and Richie nervously fiddling with the frames of his glasses. 

“What’s bullshit is that you think you have to go through whatever the fuck is going on alone.” Eddie says finally. He straightens and Richie is struck with the thought that he’s changed again, that he’s Eddie but also not-Eddie at the same time- or maybe just _more_ -Eddie. “Even if we don’t get it you can still let us hold your dumb hand and be here for you and stuff.” 

Stan seems to see the same thing Richie does because he looks momentarily startled. Stan has always been the most observant out of all of them but Richie can’t help but wonder if maybe he’s lost some of that down there. Or if he’s just been so distracted and out of himself that he hasn’t really been paying attention to them...just like they haven’t really been paying attention to him. 

“You came all the way here to...hold my hand?” There’s a flush of color in Stan’s face, and a matching one in Eddie’s when he gives a determined nod. 

To Richie’s absolute surprise Eddie grabs his hand and laces their fingers together, Eddie’s palms sweaty from the gloves and Richie’s just from this entire conversation. “I couldn’t sleep- I _can’t_ sleep. Not unless Richie’s there and we figured...if it works for us then maybe it’ll work for you too?” 

Stan is looking at their joined hands and then back at their faces, his eyes shifting from Richie to Eddie and back again like he’s trying to decide something. He looks...tired. Now that Richie knows to look for it, he can see the shadows under Stan’s eyes and the way his lids droop. He’s chewing on his bottom lip and it must be a new, frequent habit, because the skin is all torn and his tongue has to dart out to lick up fresh blood from a fresh tear. 

“Fine.” He says finally, shoulders slumping. 

Richie throws up a silent fist bump to the sky and flashes Stan a wide grin that earns him an eye roll for his troubles. 

“Just-” Stan drags his hand down his face and sighs, “Just. Don’t feel bad if it doesn’t work, okay? I- it gets really bad some nights…” 

Richie’s face softened, his heart aching for his friend. “Look, whatever happens? We’ve got you, okay? That’s the whole point of this, Stan the man.” 

“Yeah. Whatever.” Stan huffed, though something about him seemed softer, less on edge. He rubbed at one of his elbows before nodding towards the bed. “So...how does this work? Do you guys sleep on the floor or-” 

Eddie released Richie’s hand to drop his bag on the floor so he could swap his regular clothes for his sleep clothes. “I mean we could...but I think it’s better if we’re all together.” He straightened as he dragged up his sleep shorts, before tugging off his polo. “Could be on the floor or on the bed I guess.” 

“Right...yeah.” Stan’s cheeks were pink again as he wove his way around them towards his bed. Richie just barely catching it when he glanced up, determined to keep focused on changing into his own pajamas and not hype focusing on Eddie. 

The bed was small but it’s not like any of them had had any significant growth spurts recently. Richie and Stan were both kind of lanky and Eddie was just short by comparison so he wasn’t too worried about fitting. What he was worried about was how this arrangement was going to go. Was Eddie going to be in the middle? Stan? Richie? Richie wasn’t sure he could handle being in the middle. Having both Eddie and Stan curled up against him felt like maybe he was pushing his luck somehow. _Don’t touch the other boys_ … echoing uncomfortably in the back of his mind. 

Eddie was the next to get in bed, shutting off the light and hugging a battery-powered lantern he’d brought with him against his chest as he got comfortable beside Stan. In the dim glow of the light the room felt a thousand times more ominous and Stan looked about an equal level of nervous. To the point where Richie tentatively patted his shoulder as he climbed up onto the bed himself. 

By some silent consensus Stan was the one in the middle and Richie had to gently guide his friend down onto his back while Eddie arranged the lantern on Stan’s nightstand along with Richie’s glasses. With the lights off whatever front Stan had been wearing seemed to have evaporated completely. He was...a lot like he’d been when they’d found him in the sewers, except eerily quiet instead of screaming at them. His eyes were wide open and there was a tremor moving through his whole body that Richie could feel so strongly he wondered if _he_ was the one shaking. 

“Stan, you’re okay.” He whispered, body turned so he could face his friend. “Can I hold you?” His arm was lifted but he didn’t let it drape across Stan’s body until he got a nod that it was okay. 

“I’m going to do the same, okay?” Eddie muttered from the other side, and again Stan gave a little nod in response. Slowly, cautiously, Eddie let his arm cross over Stan’s chest until he could grasp at Richie’s elbow. 

“This okay?” 

Stan’s hands lifted, arms curling up until they'd folded over Richie and Eddie's. “Y-yeah.” He muttered, letting his eyes close for a moment. 

“Is this okay?” Richie shifted, draping one leg over one of Stan’s and curling his body so he could rest his head on Stan’s shoulder. 

Stan nodded again. 

Eddie asked the same question and got the same response as he mirrored Richie on Stan’s other side. 

“You’re okay.” Richie repeated, nuzzling his nose against Stan’s neck, breathing him in. Slowly, so very slowly, he could feel the tension leaving Stan’s body. Melting out of him as he let their weight settle against his limbs. 

For a moment they were silent. The room fills with the sound of their steady breathing and Stan’s heart rate settling into something calm and normal against his ear. Stan shifts, but only enough to turn his head and press a light kiss to each of their heads. It prompts both Richie and Eddie to scoot in closer, drape themselves a little more comfortably across Stan’s body. Their arms a tangle as they hold each other as close as they possibly can. 

“I love you.” Stan whispers, and they might not have heard it if the world hadn’t felt so quiet. 

“Love you too, Stan.” Richie and Eddie mumble in unison, pressing kisses to Stan’s neck, the closest place they can reach without moving. 

It’s the best night’s sleep any of them have had in a very long time. 

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write something soft ;n;


End file.
